The Slave
by Inka Lakhala
Summary: In their spare time, many people like to paint, grow flowers, go for walks or play sport. Apparently, though, Snape has other ways of spending his time. heavy on the SLASH, and v. kinky indeed
1. Figure in the Night

Title: The Slave (sorry, I'm really bad at titles - if I think of a better one I'll change it! Suggestions on a postcard to...)  
  
Author: Inka inkalakhala@yahoo.co.uk  
  
Rating: R  
  
Pairing: Lucius/Severus  
  
Warnings: BDSM and d/s  
  
Summary: In their spare time, many people like to paint, grow flowers, go for walks or play sport. Apparently, though, Snape has other ways of spending his time.  
  
Disclaimer: Not my characters - well, obviously!! Ever heard of JK Rowling? British writer, wrote a couple of books, made a helluva lot of money? Yeah - these are her playthings; I'm audaciously borrowing them. What I do with them is not meant to reflect what she'd do with them, or there'd be a book called Harry Potter and Black Leather Catsuit by now. This is me being pervy and having a fetish for the darker aspects of this gorgeous pairing. You no likey kinky wizard sex? You no read this then. Nyah~nyah!  
  
A/N: I've been craving Lucius/Severus BDSM for ages. Decided to do something about it. You may recognise some of the pervs in this fic if you've ever read The Story of O. Which is a fascinating and beautiful book, but is also very adult. So yeah, some aspects of this story are inspired by O and co. Note: some aspects and inspired by. Not a carbon copy of, only slashy.  
  
If anyone wants to beta this, you're welcome to do so and I'll be your friend for life *giggle*  
  
___________________________________________________________________________  
  
Hogwarts crouched in the cold night, dark and silent.  
  
Well, perhaps not quite silent. Moaning Myrtle appeared to moaning even more than usual, and Nearly Headless Nick was having a vociferous argument with one of the paintings several floors below. But no students walked the shadowed corridors, and no teachers' authoritative voices echoed above the laughter and jokes of teenage wizards.  
  
Snape drew his robes closer around himself and blended with the dark corners and cold stone. He had made this particular trip so many times before that even were the darkness total, he could have found his way without stumbling or taking a wrong turning. Tonight, though, there was no problem - the moon was gibbous, waxing to full; the paintings and statues seemed to be rimed in hoarfrost where the silvery light fell on their edges. The suits of armour, standing like frozen knights beside doorways or in corridors, almost appeared to move as the moon glinted on polished surfaces. Several times, Snape had stopped and spun round, pulling out his wand, only to find it was, yet again, just his imagination.  
  
He was on edge, in anticipation - and, as always, not quite sure whether it was anxiety or excitement that made the muscles across his back tense and his breathing quicken. He trod carefully, wary of the way footsteps seemed to echo in this ancient building.  
  
Ways into Hogwarts were relatively few and diligently watched night and day; ways out, on the other hand, were more numerous. The longer anyone resided here, the more inconspicuous doorways and winding back-corridors they discovered, and Snape was no first-year school pupil. It was towards one such little-known exit that he headed now, a small door which apparently opened into mid-air about ten feet above dense scrubland at the forest's border. He was constantly alert for audacious students who were out of bed for their own dubious reasons and might chance upon him; the words, "Ten points from Gryffindor!" were virtually balanced on his tongue. At least he had nothing to fear from the ghosts. He had suspected Peeves would prove to be a liability right from the outset, and so took measures to ensure that he would not cause problems; he'd worked out an 'arrangement' with the poltergeist (based on a combination of some extremely dire but utterly sincere threats and more than a little bribery) which should allow him to continue his late-night activities unhindered.  
  
Severus Snape was no fool; he knew Dumbledore was certainly aware of the occasions his Potions professor slipped out in the dead of night, but it seemed that, provided Snape continued to exercise discretion, the Headmaster would tolerate this.  
  
He had every intention of continuing to exercise discretion. Were he to be discovered and exposed, his career would no doubt be over, and more distressingly, the shame involved would be far more than he could bear. Yet in spite of this knowledge, he would not simply stop, for the ache and the need was too strong.  
  
***  
  
The Portkey took him to right the heart of the manor. His presence would be known straight away, so he did not waste time, quickly finding the path which led him directly towards the side door of the impressive main house.  
  
He did not have to knock, or pull the cord that hung just within reaching distance of his left hand; there was a creak and the heavy oak door swung open of its own accord. A tall figure stood before him, hair like white gold framing a face which was both beautiful and ruthlessly cruel. "Severus."  
  
Snape dropped his eyes, as he had learned to do when addressed in that tone. "Master."  
  
***  
  
"My dear Severus...I was beginning to wonder if you had finally tired of our meetings."  
  
Snape shook his head. "The Portkey had been moved; it took me some time to find it. Some animal had tried to bury..."  
  
Lucius glared, his cold, clear eyes making Snape shiver. "Did I ask to hear your excuses? No." He stepped closer to the other man, lifting a gloved hand to caress a pale cheek. "You are here, never mind how long it seems to have taken - well done. However, because of your lateness, you understand that I must punish you." Snape nodded. "Good." Malfoy's voice was icy with detachment and fiery with desire at the same time. He did not touch Snape, or even instruct him; the dark wizard simply walked to the corner of the room Lucius reserved for their meetings and began to shed his clothing.  
  
Lucius did not heat the plain, bare room, except on rare occasions. The air bit Snape's skin as the heavy layers whispered to the floor, but he did not complain. He knew he would not be worrying about the temperature soon. "Very good..." Lucius spoke softly; Snape was never entirely sure what was 'very good' when he said that - Snape's actions? His body? He stepped away from the pile of clothes, as always, surprised by how much fabric there seemed to be. Lucius's eyes roamed his body, lingering on the white lines of old scars and the pinkish lines of newer ones; scars of his own making. He lifted his cane, the showy, silver-topped affair which seemed to make him feel so superior, and let the metal handle trace a line down Snape's chest. He forced himself not to flinch back, though it felt like ice. "Yes, very good," Lucius mused to himself.  
  
The wizard's hand touched Severus's collarbone, stroking it gently, tenderly, before alighting on a nipple which was already tense. He fondled the ring which he, himself, had put there; it was not designed ever to be removed, and from it hung a heavy pendant upon which the crest of the Malfoy household was engraved. Proof that Snape was forever Malfoy property. Lucius seemed permanently fascinated by the ring, always playing with it, feeling its weight in his fingers, taking it into his mouth sometimes and rolling it with his tongue, at other times brutally yanking at it until Snape cried out with pain.  
  
Now, he took out a long, crimson cord and tied it to the ring. Holding the free end, he tugged, twice. Snape narrowed his black eyes. This was a new game. "Severus, follow me."  
  
Snape followed the insistent pull, watching the graceful movements of his master as he walked in front. The cord was allowed to fall slack as long as Severus kept at his master's heels, but he would have followed even had there been no leash.  
  
After a lap of the room, Lucius ordered him to stop, and he stopped. Then, "Severus, down." Snape dropped to his knees on the floor, staring at Lucius's expensive boots, resisting the urge to raise his head and stare at his master. Malfoy bestowed a fleeting touch to a bare shoulder, allowed his fingers to tangle briefly in black hair, before a light tug brought Severus back to his feet. "Follow." Severus followed, and once again admired the one he was following. Lucius must have been aware of the scrutiny, as he emphasised his long, elegant stride and the way his hair lifted and fell in time with his paces. Enjoying the sight, Snape forgot himself and paused.  
  
Lucius, however, did not, and as the cord snapped taut, Snape could not suppress the gasp of pain; nor could he, in his naked state, hide the effect it on his body. Lucius turned, smiling wolfishly at the visible evidence, but turning the smile into a frown as he considered the disobedience. "I said follow, did I not?"  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
"You stopped."  
  
"Yes, Master." Once, Snape would have appended to the agreement an excuse or a reason for his failure to obey, but now he had discovered, through Lucius's teaching, that such an attitude was unacceptable and would elicit discipline - and not always of the kind Snape enjoyed.  
  
"Surely, by now, you know the consequences of that?" Oh yes, Severus knew all too well. And more than that, he craved it. He sometimes deliberately disobeyed Lucius in order to elicit discipline all the sooner, desperate to satisfy the hunger which gnawed at him whenever he was in the man's presence (and, he knew from experience, away from the mans' presence as well). As long as his actions served to amuse Malfoy, he would get what he needed.  
  
A few times, he had pushed Lucius too far. Then he had learned about real punishment - not the cane, which sent him mad with desire, or the whip, which he simultaneously loved and hated, but Lucius's more exotic toys. On the last occasion, Malfoy had come perilously close to killing his slave (for slave, Snape told himself, was exactly what he was) before realising what he was doing, so consumed by anger was he. McGonagall had asked him why he was wearing high-necked robes in the heat of summer and he'd muttered something stiff and uninformative at the time, but even now he thought he could feel the marks from where the iron choke-chain had cut into the skin of his throat.  
  
Impatient, now, Lucius dragged Snape to the hard pallet by one grey stone wall. He nodded to it and looked expectantly at the dark-haired professor. Snape climbed on and lay back, stretching out his hands in front of him, as he was accustomed to doing when Lucius wanted him on the pallet; his master buckled on a pair of thick leather manacles joined by a short, thin chain. Grasping the chain, he pulled Snape's hands above his head. "Up. I want you the other way today."  
  
Surprised, as Lucius enjoyed seeing his slave's face during their sessions, Snape complied and turned over so he was lying on his front, feeling himself being pressed uncomfortably against the rigid surface. There was a sweat starting to break out over his skin, and his breath caught raggedly as Lucius ran two fingers down the length of his spine.  
  
Lucius passed the chain linking Snape's wrists over a hook set into the wall about six inches above the pallet. Severus felt the touch of metal on his ankles before restraints closed over them, too, spreading them apart. Lucius let out a low chuckle as Snape twisted round to look at his master with curious, pleading eyes.  
  
A low cry leapt from Snape's lips as the first drops splashed on the backs and insides of his thighs, scalding the sensitive skin. More followed, across his shoulders and buttocks. Candle wax was never that hot!! Lucius must have put a spell on it to make it burn more; wherever the wax touched, his skin smarted and throbbed.  
  
It was painful, true, but it did not take long before Snape was eagerly awaiting the next burning droplet. There was something so amazingly...erotic...about the heat and the pain together. But the fact that Lucius had started like this meant he surely had other plans in mind...  
  
__________________  
  
OK, so here's the deal - I love reading BDSM, but this is the first time I've tried to write it. Is it worth my while continuing to post this thing online? (I'm really enjoying writing it, so it's going to get continued, at least on my hard drive, whatever anyone says.)  
  
If so, your options are: 1. Ew, this is poorly written BDSM if ever I saw it! No more, please no more! 2. Continue this, and keep it R-rated and keep it HERE. (Now I think R- rated BDSM kind of defeats the purpose, so this wouldn't be my first choice.) 3. Continue this, but post subsequent chapters on an adult archive, e.g. adultfanfiction.net where it can zoom up into the realms of NC17 no problem. 4. Continue the story, don't bother archiving it; just post it to a group (Yahoo: Veela, Inc. or LJ: pornish_pixies, etc.) 5. Other; specify.  
  
Vote now! I wanna hear your opinions! (Oh, and FYI, "Ew, yuk! They're gay! And Lucius is whipping Snape - ew!" isn't a voting option. If that's your response, go read some gen or something where that doesn't happen. I like gen too, so if you find some nice fics, be sure to send me the recs!!) 


	2. Mastered

Well, I started the next bit and realised I can fit in one more update on FF.net before this exceeds even the most flexible of R-ratings (and yeah, I know a lot of people do stick up stuff on here and call it R when it's really NC17, but it all seems like so much bother...). So any further updates will be found on adultfanfiction.net (I've given up trying to add a working link straight into my page there, by the way)  
  
Rating: still R (just about, barely)  
  
A/N: written in a Biology lecture. Protein metabolism or Snape being caned – well, there was really no choice to be made!  
  
And so it continues...  
  
_________________________  
  
There was a swishing noise, and Snape let out a low moan, mingling desire and anticipated agony, as he realised what was about to happen. Lucius possessed a large collection of those canes he was so fond of. One, of course, concealed his wand, ready for him to draw and use the moment something threatened him, and this was the one he generally carried when he left the manor.  
  
Another of his canes as exactly that. A cane. The mahogany exterior was simply a sheath for the slender willow-switch that lay within. Pale, supple and unadorned, it was almost handsome to look upon, but it had a wicked temper. "I feel lenient tonight, my darling," Lucius purred. "The cane, you remember, is kinder than the whip. I do not intend to whip you now."  
  
Snape nodded, already anticipating what was coming.  
  
The cracking noise and the sudden but short-lived pain which flared across Snape's buttocks was just a precursor. Malfoy was toying with him; that had been a mere flick of the wrist, a fraction of the punishment he was capable of inflicting. But it went through Snape's entire body and cause heat to rise instantly in his groin.  
  
A thin whistle was the only warning he had before the cane descended once more, this time on the small of his back. His shoulders tightened and his bit his lip, feeling sweat matting his hair where it hung over his face. "Aren't you going to scream for me?" Lucius asked, his tone both mocking and feigning insult. It was one of his favourite games, and Snape derived a strange pleasure from playing along. He shook his head in violent denial, refusing to make a sound. "Oh, Severus; you disappoint me."  
  
The cane cracked against his skin again, somehow striking along exactly the same line as before. Snape did not cry out. And so Lucius did not stop. He would win, eventually; he always did. The cane had too much power over the dark-haired wizard chained to the pallet... And if it still proved inadequate, Malfoy could employ other methods.  
  
Again and again the cane bit into that same, smarting stripe. Lucius had perfect aim. But Severus was not about to let him taste victory so easily. He writhed against the restraints, desperate to be touched, stroked - anything to release the pressure building within; the manacles on his wrists chafed and rubbed the skin raw. But he stayed resolutely silent.  
  
With each blow, his breath came shorter and faster; his arousal was fairly screaming for mercy, even if he was not. But he could neither touch it, nor did the chains permit enough movement for him to rub against the pallet and satisfy himself that way.  
  
"Come on, Severus. You know it would be so easy if you would simply scream for me." He let the switch snap quickly across the back of Snape's thighs, bruising skin already tender from the scalding wax. "So stubborn..."  
  
He waited for the next blow. It didn't come; desperately, he tried to twist round to see what was happening. Hearing Lucius chuckle, he groaned needily. "My dear Severus...does my dear Severus want to be finished?"  
  
Yes, yes please!! But he held his tongue.  
  
Lucius's murmured spell was too soft to catch, but Snape thought it started with 'Accio'. He closed his eyes, his whole body shuddering with need.  
  
A rich, heady scent like white musk surrounded him, mixing with the existing scents of sweat and arousal. The oily drops that splattered across his skin were nothing like the candle wax – they were cool, soothing.  
  
At least, so he believed until Lucius let them fall on the broken skin where the cane had struck. The choked-off cry was enough to indicate that, once more, Malfoy had won. The oil felt like acid in the cuts, stinging and throbbing in hot waves that seemed to sweep across his entire body. It was unbearable...it was incredible.  
  
_________________________  
  
Right, much as I feel guilty leaving poor Severus like that, I'm going to cut it there in the interests of decency. The rest will go on AFF.net as soon as I can organise myself. In other words, as soon as I have some work I need an excuse not to do.  
  
Thanks for the lovely FB so far – you guys are a real encouragement! :) *glomp*  
  
Rehana – wow! I'm so flattered you like it. ;) I must say, I often crave a bit of BDSM after finishing a long fluff-angst or similar.  
  
Orphelia Malfoy – lol! Is there really a lack of Lucius/Severus BDSM? A pity – to me, they just seem to ask for it. But I'm more of a visiter to the HP fandom, so I wouldn't really know. These two are definitely my HP OTP, although it doesn't seem to do it for some of the other people I've spoken to.  
  
What is it about the name 'Lucius' that makes me consistently type 'Lucious' or even 'Luscious' by mistake? Freudian slip, or Rowling's deliberate machinations...? 


End file.
